Margaret in January 2023, before her final approach to death. The T-shirt says “I am a Nurse; I stab people and I know things”.
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Blog 231 finished with extracts from my diary entries for Tuesday 4 July 2023. This Blog continues my diary entries from the point where Blog 231 finished.
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Wednesday 5 July 2023 Blog 231’s diary entry finishes this way. [I bring a kitchen chair and place it next to her so we can be close and I can make sure she is safe. Her eyes have black circles around them – as if someone has hit her on the eyes. I presume it is grim weariness but wonder if it is a sign of an acceleration in her departure from this life. She struggles to her feet and starts her evening pill parade. Dr Saunderson has recommended a combination of pain killers plus sleeping pills. Margaret opts for soluble Panadol and I put two into a glass while she has other medications. She finds it hard to swallow now.] **** The diary entry for 5 July 2023 continues. I alternate between the state of tranquillity I can get by focusing on the small practical tasks that need to be done and lapsing back into yet another episode of the deep blues. I love her; I always have. She will be dead within days at the outside – and there is nothing at all I can do except try and keep her safe and ease her pain. I feel like shit as I type this entry. It is 9.38 pm. In twenty minutes, I can start the going to bed process. I desperately hope the sleeping pills work. I have not tried to walk, do yoga or meditate today. This has been physically very hard and very dispiriting. I get Margaret into bed at 10.15 pm, the earliest time in weeks. She is asleep immediately. Thursday 6 July 2023 Margaret is moving restlessly in bed at 12.50 am on Thursday 6 July. I get up and ask her what is the problem. She is utterly confused and makes no sense. She has never been like this before. At various moments, she realises she is confused. I get her to the toilet to try for a pee but nothing comes. Very carefully, I get her back into bed. She is asleep immediately. It is 1.40 am now. When her breathing tells me she is asleep, I turn off the lamp and go to sleep. Margaret wakes me again at 4.51. She has swung her legs out of bed but is not awake. I carefully get her legs back into bed. She has no awareness of what has happened and is immediately asleep again but without her head on the pillow. I lie in bed until 5.25 listening to her with the lamp on and then I get up. I feel this is very close to the end of Margaret’s very long cancer journey. I get dressed and ring Maurine asking her to come. She says she will. Margaret is unaware of my movements or of the fact that I have got up. She has never been like this in our 25 years together. It is 5.58 am as I type these words. Maurine arrives at 6.15; Margaret is still in bed and still breathing. I talk to Maurine until 7.30, when a miracle happens. Margaret calls me from the bedroom. She is groggy but wants to get up so I help her make it happen. Margaret and Murine discuss what might have been the cause of Margaret’s behaviour during the night. It may have been the result of the impact of the Oxazepam on her system, even though she has had this drug before without ill effects. Maurine leaves at 8.30. This morning, the district nurse is Michelle. She too is lovely. Dr Bishnoi rings at 12.15 pm. Margaret tells him her health has deteriorated and she wants him to trigger Palliative Care. He will get that process started but warns it may be Monday 10 July before we hear from Palliative Care. I nap for an hour from 1.00 pm while Margaret is on the phone getting quotes for our contents’ insurance. What an amazing woman; she refuses to give in to the disease and renews out insurance for $210.00 less that the renewal notice – with a different company. It has been bitter cold today and raining heavily for most of the day. I pull a quiche out of the freezer for dinner. I have just realised that the hissing of the universe has stopped; it has been missing all day. I feel I am falling apart, but I must keep going while she needs me. This is so very, very hard. No exercise (walking or yoga) and no meditation today; same thing yesterday. Marg falls asleep as we try and watch tv. She cannot sit in the sofa but can sit in a kitchen chair. As exhaustion conquers her, her head slumps forward and she is in danger of falling. I sit in a separate chair beside her. I love her and I am losing her. I must keep going. I persuade Margaret we should go to bed at 10.50 and I get her into bed by 11.15 pm. Tonight she has taken two Panadol for pain plus one Oxazepam to help her sleep. |
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Margaret’s sister Maurine cancelled me and refused to have any further contact with me after I cooked dinner for the Redden family on 23 November 2023. Someone – I believe it was Margaret’s brother Jim – stole the more valuable items (approximate value $40,000 to $55,000) of Margaret’s jewellery in the evening of 23 November 2023.
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